101 Uses for Tru Blood  9
by melissakay
Summary: Mitchell wanders into Fangtasia and gets more than he bargained for... It's not like the vampire bars he's ever frequented in the past. Instead of humans in cages, fed on against their will, they're lining up to be bitten by the club's hot owner, Eric...


Title: **101 Uses for Tru Blood - #9**

Description: Crackfic featuring Eric Northman and Pam from True Blood, Mitchell from Being Human, and random swooning fan-girl

Rated: R18+

*Adult themes, sex scenes, course language, and necrophilia (well, we're talking about the undead here, remember?)

Almost from the moment Mitchell entered the dark, seedy bar in Shreveport, Louisiana, he could tell it was no ordinary vampire hangout. At least, not like any of the others he'd visited in his hometown of Dublin; or in his travels to Sunnydale, California, where they apparently liked their humans caged and flagellated on a regular basis.

Fangtasia boasted rich red walls that made his stomach growl, and a blonde, ditzy waitress called Ginger who had that dazed, glassy-eyed look of those who'd been glamoured to within an inch of their lives. After Mitchell repeated his order for the third time, because the silly bint didn't understand his accent, he sat back and surveyed the goings-on in this odd little burg. He liked the look of the pole-dancer in the centre of the room, a brunette with big tits and big hair who kept glancing at him coyly with her come-hither-and-fuck-me-senseless, big brown eyes. She played with the pearls around her pale neck, sucking on them and pulling them out of her mouth, one by one until Mitchell had a severe case of blue-balls.

Wanting desperately to ease the ache in his nether regions, Mitchell turned his attention to the bar, where a blonde woman in an outrageous black dominatrix outfit was clearing her throat and tapping a microphone.

'Okay, y'all' she said, in a strong Southern drawl, 'Tonight is Ladies Night at Fangtasia…' (she barely got through her sentence before the gaggle of swamp-donkeys at Table Nine started whooping and hollering like bitches in heat) '… and y'all know what _that_ means'.

Mitchell almost had to put his hands over his ears as the feral women screamed "Eric, Eric, Eric" at the top of their lungs. Who the hell is Eric, Mitchell wondered. Christ, you'd think it was the premiere of Breaking Dawn, the way these chicks are carrying on!

From a room behind the counter stepped a tall, blonde guy with shoulders he could safely carry the remaining Fat Lady _and_ Dawn French on; and still have room for that pompous ass from Master Chef. His blue eyes grazed the room from under sandy, arched brows. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. Besides, he would have been drowned out by all the obsessive squealing from Table Nine. As the blonde vamp's icy blue stare headed in Mitchell's direction, the Irish lad found himself gulping, and feeling a strange heat flood his limbs. He'd never felt anything like this before – not for one of his own kind, and _certainly _not a male! But there was a strange charisma emanating from this vampire named Eric. It made Mitchell want to get up and walk over, and offer himself up as meat for the beast.

But he was too late. Amid the throng of over-excited Twi-Moms emerged a red-haired woman in her late thirties, wearing a low-cut green singlet and short denim skirt. She looked nervously back at her friends, who nodded their approval. Mitchell wouldn't have minded betting her approach was the result of a dare. This could get interesting, he thought.

'Come here' commanded the vampire named Eric. The woman's legs didn't appear to belong to her as they tottered across the slate floor to bring her within arm's reach of him. The poor wench didn't seem to know whether to shit or go blind. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, he was so tall. Hands in the pockets of his black pants, Eric surveyed her as if she were a piece of meat in a butcher's window. 'What's your blood type?' he asked her in a conversational tone, as if asking nothing more threatening than the sign she was born under.

'B Negative' she told him, in a wavering voice. 'Does that… uh… Is that okay?'

Mitchell had witnessed people like this before of course. People desperate to have a vampire bite them, because it was dark, dangerous and sexy. The adrenaline rush alone, of putting themselves at such risk was said to be akin to taking a hit of heroin. Having a Teutonic boy-toy like this bite into them would be an added bonus. Mitchell almost wanted Eric to bite _him_!

'It'll do' Eric said, looking almost bored. He strolled around the bar toward her, and stood between her and her cronies, who were just about wetting their seats in excitement, and no doubt a good dose of envy, as well!

She swept her long ginger tresses over one shoulder and offered her pale, freckled neck to him. Mitchell, not having had anything to eat for a couple of nights due to his sworn oath not to drink from unwilling humans, felt his tongue swell in his mouth from dehydration. Looking longingly at the woman's neck, he imagined he saw her jugular pulse from across the room. He licked his parched lips, unable to stop staring as Eric leaned down and pulled his midnight snack closer, and nuzzled her skin with his perfectly formed lips. The redhead swooned; then made a strange, strangled "Gar!" sound as his fangs tore into her flesh. Mitchell gulped and felt the fierce burn of hunger as a stream of blood escaped and trickled down between the woman's shoulder blades.

When he'd had his fill, Eric let the woman go, and she made her way back to her seat on choppier legs than before. In fact, one of her friends had to help her find her chair before she found the floor. Eric glanced around the room again. 'Well, wouldn't you know it' he drawled, 'I'm still hungry'.

Pick me, pick me, Mitchell wanted to cry, but knew _his_ blood – which hadn't been circulated around his body since… well, he'd lost track of exactly how long he'd been a vampire – wouldn't satisfy the striking looking blonde bloodsucker. Mitchell could feel a man-crush coming on as his own dark eyes wandered from Eric's perfectly chiselled facial features, down to the way his strong chest swelled under the black singlet; and groaned, audibly. What the hell was wrong with him? He was straight, for Christ's sake! He preferred taco to sausage any day of the week! So why was he eyeing off this vampire, who looked for all the world like something that strayed out of an ad for Norsca deodorant?

'He's got you in his thrall'.

Mitchell looked up. The brunette pole-dancer had wandered away from her station and was now leaning over his table, her nipples grazing its vandalised surface. 'He does that to people'.

'No he hasn't' Mitchell argued, his swollen member straining against the crotch of his black jeans. 'I'm totally in control of my own mind'.

'Right' she said, nodding, not looking as though she believed him at all. 'You _do_ realise, you're drooling?'

'Oh well' said Mitchell, grinning, his cheeky Irish charm coming to the fore, 'That's due to the view I'm getting right now, darlin''. He wiped the drool from his lower lip, and let his eyes drop to her impressive chest again. 'Can I buy you a drink?'

'Oh' she said, suddenly, looking frightened. 'I don't think the boss would be too happy about that'.

Mitchell groaned. 'You're not his human, are you? Because that would be a _real_ pity'.

She looked at him askance. 'You're… you're a vampire?'

'How did you know?'

'Your fangs are showing' she told him. 'Funny – you don't look like a vampire'.

'Neither does he' replied Mitchell, gesturing at Eric with a nod. The bar owner hadn't noticed that his dancer had left her post, thank god. He was talking to his 2IC, the woman in the black leather halter neck, come-fuck-me skin tight pants and riding boots.

'Eric was a Viking before he was turned' the girl informed Mitchell. 'Can't you just see him in chain mail, with a sword?' She licked her full lips at the idea.

'Well, yes' said Mitchell, 'But…'

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Because suddenly the former Viking was over the shoulder of his dancer, smirking in a way that would have made Mitchell's blood run hot, if it ran at all. God damn, he thought. He's so good-looking _I'm_ feeling attracted to him! What's up with that?

'Bianca' Eric said to the brunette, 'How would you like to show this young man a good time? Maybe give him a lap dance?'

Mitchell's mouth dropped open. This was the _last_ thing he expected! Perhaps a few heated words with the boss man, maybe getting thrown out on his arse for hitting on the entertainment, but a _lap-dance_? Someone likes me up there, he thought, as the girl straddled him and forced him back into the cushioned wall of the booth with both hands. She kissed his stubbled cheek then moved those full lips down to his throat, all the while taking his hands in hers and placing them on her tits as she started to move her hips back and forth on his lap. It was like sex with clothes on, and Mitchell fairly ached for skin-to-skin contact. He looked up at her face. Her eyes were closed as if she was enjoying this just as much as he was, maybe even more. Her hands were still over his, making him squeeze her assets as she rode him like a bucking bronco. Mitchell groaned, feeling the old familiar pressure in the pit of his stomach, knowing he was about to come and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

"Fuck me' Bianca whispered. 'No one will see from here'.

It was all the encouragement Mitchell needed. In seconds he'd unfastened his fly and pulled her hips back over his groin, moving aside her g-string for better access. She gasped as he entered her, and leaned into him, grasping his collar length dark curls almost painfully in her enthusiasm. Mitchell put his hands on her hips, controlling the motion so that he didn't blow his load before she got a chance to get good and worked up. She bit her juicy lower lip as she rocked back and forward. Within seconds she was gasping; then her breathing grew uneven and jagged. Mitchell closed his eyes as he climaxed, and felt Bianca arch her back with her own orgasm.

'Well… I didn't say you could take advantage'.

Mitchell opened his eyes to a rather irritated former Viking. 'I'm sorry' he stammered. 'Is she… is she your human?'

'No' said Eric. 'She's my employee. But it's strictly a look but don't touch scenario. Usually, anyway. You're lucky I like you'.

'Huh?'

Bianca moved aside and straightened what little clothing she wore, which was just a short purple sarong over the lacy g-string. 'He's bi-sexual' she explained. 'And _god,_ can he screw! You oughta try him'.

'I – I – I'm not into guys' said Mitchell, watching in perverse wonder as Bianca turned and ran a taloned finger down Eric's chest, her eyes following in a direct path to his crotch. Suddenly she took the hem of his singlet in one fist and tore it from his body. Lusty screams erupted from Table Nine. Eric ignored his adoring fans, choosing to stare down at Mitchell, instead.

'Get me a blood' he ordered Bianca.

'O Positive, Boss?'

'You know me well' Eric replied.

Mitchell was almost afraid of what would happen when the dancer left him in the more than capable – and fucking huge – hands of her boss, who was looking at him like a lifer looks at fresh young, pretty meat in prison.

'You're a vampire' he said to Mitchell. It was more of a statement than a question.

'Yes' Mitchell nodded. 'I am'.

'You didn't feed from my dancer. I appreciate that'.

'I suppose I was more horny than hungry' Mitchell replied. 'Although, now that I think about it…'

Eric grinned like a shark. Taking the Tru Blood Bianca offered, he opened it, and held it out to Mitchell. But before the younger vampire's fingers touched the warm glass, the former Viking whipped it back.

'I saw the way you looked at me before' he told Mitchell. 'And I think I know how you want this'.

To Mitchell's surprise, the blonde vampire upturned the bottle of Tru Blood over himself, letting it splash against his tawny skin, the contrast of colours making Mitchell's head spin. All of a sudden, he'd never felt so hungry, or horny, in his life. He watched as the synthetic blood sluiced off Eric's chest, moving down his sculpted stomach muscles one by one like champagne poured over a pyramid of glasses, overflowing, the next row catching the run-off. It was mesmerising, to say the least!

'It's okay' Eric told a stunned Mitchell. 'Drink from me'.

Mitchell didn't have to be told twice. He lunged forward and fell upon Eric's body like a lion on a zebra, licking and sucking every drop from Eric's torso while the aging vampire groupies whooped and squealed in delight around them. Mitchell hadn't realised he had an audience, but he didn't care. The lure of the blood, and Eric's impressive upper body, was too strong to resist!

'Enough' said Eric, finally, taking Mitchell's chin in his hand and forcing him to stand up. 'You're making _me_ hungry, now!'

'Oh pick me, pick me' yelled the fang-bangers from Table Nine. Eric turned and let his blue eyes roam over the audience until he found a short girl with dark wavy hair, sitting toward the back, in a ruby red dress. 'You' he ordered, crooking a finger at her. 'Come here'.

The girl obeyed as if he'd hypnotised her in advance. Guess he just had that kind of an effect on women, Mitchell thought. He watched as the girl offered herself to Eric in the same way the redhead had, earlier. But he didn't seem interested in drinking from her just yet.

'How would you like to be the meat in a vampire sandwich?' he asked her, with a rakish grin.

Mitchell's jaw dropped as the girl let her slip dress fall to the floor. She was completely naked underneath.

'Pam' said Eric, over his shoulder, 'You should get in on this, too'.

The girl, in a fully-fledged trance by now, allowed Eric to pick her up and place her, horizontal, on the nearest empty table. Mitchell watched as Eric and Pam then dived in on the girl, Pam caressing her breasts and sucking her neck while Eric entered her and had her moaning in seconds flat. Mitchell felt his groin stiffen again.

'Well' said Eric, looking in his direction. 'Don't stand on ceremony. Dig in'.

Whoa, thought Mitchell, as he watched Eric kneel and bite into the girl's femoral artery.

No wonder this place is called Fangtasia!

The End


End file.
